As I look yonder to what were once the hills of Solitude and Confrontations.

Old beloved friend of mine,

Altered and seem to have grown with time.
The leaves you flickered with rushing winds,

Those mighty Sals and the tamarinds.
Many little birds and their jovial songs,

That rugged stream and the banks along.
I hear no echoes of my yelling and calls,

You certainly have misplaced it all.
You seemed to be trapped in some sort of hurry,
To you it’s a memory, fogged and blurry.